


Life Lessons

by mypetelephant



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-13
Updated: 2012-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypetelephant/pseuds/mypetelephant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or how Pansy learned to stop worrying and hump the right blonde.</p><p>Written for hp_kinkfest on livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cosmo Life Lesson No. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story for hp-kinkfest over on livejournal. The prompt came from thusspakekate, who also happened to be my very patient and helpful beta. So many thanks to her.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or Hogwarts or anything. I also don't own Cosmo, no matter how much I wish I did. And the summary for this story was inspired by Dr. Strangelove.

Pansy Parkinson started her fourth year at Hogwarts with one very distinct expectation: this would be the year that she would finally have sex. She had a boyfriend, an expansive castle at her disposal, and most importantly, a significant desire to spread her legs and see what all the fuss was about. To make up for the fact that she had no idea what she was doing, Pansy had spent the summer engaged in an immense analysis of human sexuality that ranged from a stack of poorly hidden wizarding pornography in her parents' closet to boring texts detailing the more mundane mechanics of intercourse. Hermione Granger wasn't the only girl who could spend a vacation with her nose stuck in between pages.

Unfortunately, her studies had come to a halt when her parents announced the two most dreaded words a teenager can hear: family vacation. Not only did this mean that Pansy was going to miss the Quidditch World Cup, she was going to have to visit her cousins in America instead. And while her cousins' tendency to engage in the Muggle world was disgusting enough, Pansy was even more displeased when she realized she would have to share a room with them. This put a significant damper on her research. Even when she turned to the bathroom in an attempt for some alone time, frantic knocks would sound and interrupt her explorations.

After a stifling week spent at tourist traps like the Salem witch trial reenactments, Pansy was beginning to worry that she would never learn what she needed in time for the new school year. She was going to go back to school with no idea of how to shag Draco Malfoy, resident blond sex god-in-training. Clearly, the world was engaged in a giant conspiracy against her and her libido.

But just when Pansy was starting to consider going on a murderous, hormone-driven rampage, one of her cousins, a sixteen year old witch named Mary, found a way to be useful. She dragged Pansy out to a sleepover with some of her friends, giving her hope that she might be able to glean some sexual knowledge from this gathering of older girls. But when she got there, Pansy learned that Mary had the most boring friends imaginable. Even Granger seemed like invigorating company compared to these girls. Pansy practically yawned her way through a game of "Truth or Dare." Pansy had tried to make one girl run outside in her knickers, but that was deemed too risky. It was only when a secret bottle of firewhiskey was uncovered that the girls began to live up to their potential.

The most important revelation to come out of the evening was a Muggle magazine. Pansy had sneered at it first, unsure as to why the static picture of a supposedly famous Muggle woman would be remotely intriguing. But as the contents of the magazine were recited reverently around the circle, Pansy began to appreciate the striking insights it contained about the male brain. Ideas about what she should do and how she should do it began to swirl in her brain as she contemplated the fifty hottest ways to spice up her love life. No wizarding magazine had ever promised such an abundance of knowledge regarding the use of underwear as scrunchies.

Yes, like so many teenage girls before her, Pansy had discovered that unholiest of unholy texts: Cosmopolitan. The logic (or lack thereof) behind any piece of advice was irrelevant. As far as she was concerned, any word written in Cosmo was the truth. She voraciously acquired every copy she could find, taking down notes and coming up with a strategic plan for her first proper shag.

However, there is one contingency that no Muggle magazine can provide a solution for, now matter how American it is. And now, a few months into her fourth year, Pansy found herself facing an incredible conundrum she had never expected to encounter: how do you have sex with someone who you've seen get turned into a bouncing ferret?

She hadn't expected it to be such a challenge. After all, this was Draco. Why should it matter if one moment he was the beautiful boy she was committed to falling in love with and then the next moment he was a white ball of fur, oscillating through the air at the whim of Mad-Eye Moody?

Unfortunately, Pansy had a plan based on her newfound religious text, and the ferret situation couldn't have come at worse time.

**Cosmo Life Lesson #1: Surprise your lover with a sexy bath…for two**

There is a room in Hogwarts that has long been used by professors and students alike to suit their needs. Called the Room of Requirement by many of its users, it has been used for purposes ranging from convenient toilet location to recovery room for drunken house-elves. What is not widely known is that the Room of Requirement is in fact a Slytherin House creation. Yes, centuries ago, a room full of talented and frustrated Slytherin students had come up with a solution for the conundrum faced by many a boarding school student, namely the need for a suitable location for the sex. Of course, Hogwarts had many opportunities for privacy, and there were ways to get around the presence of ghosts and professors and other teachers.

But in this fateful meeting, which followed the consumption of magical substances that are now illegal in most countries, the participants realized that mere privacy was not enough. No, Slytherins would never settle for anything as mundane as repeated dalliances in isolated classrooms and dungeons. They required something a little more…intriguing.

From this arose the idea for a room that would suit the users' needs. Want a bottle of lubricant? It'll be there. Handcuffs? Check. Whips, full-body latex suit, and harness? Just ask and ye shall be served. In this way, a variety of sexual tastes and needs could be met without having to fuss with desks or fearing the intrusion of an obnoxious caretaker.

The tradition of the Room of Requirement had been handed down from generation to generation, one of the few traditions held sacred by the house. There was even an ancient sign-up sheet involved, one that was kept immune from any devious manipulation. Anyone else who tried to use the room during someone else's time would fail. Those were the rules, and every Slytherin knew better than to cross them.

Pansy had signed up for the room at the beginning of the school year. But due to the exceptionally high demand that followed the news that there would be non-Hogwarts students pouring into the school (say what you will about Slytherins, but they know how to plan in advance), she wasn't able to obtain a free date for quite some time. True, she could always try to find an otherwise free time slot to use it, but she liked the idea of planning the night she would lose her virginity. She had the date outlined in her calendar, a mental countdown ticking down the time until she would finally get to carry out the scheme in her head.

There were several elements to her plan. The first was surprise. While she and Draco had continued their snogging in various rooms in the castle, she had yet to give him any indication of her desire to move beyond some simple kissing and groping. She wanted Draco to be properly taken off-guard so that she could amaze him with her spontaneity. Latent in all of this was a need to make sure that she remained in control, that Pansy—not Draco—held all the keys to the next few steps of their relationship. She adored Draco and all that, but if they were going to be Hogwart's new power couple, he was going to have step back and let her take charge.

In the meantime, Pansy had come up with the perfect idea of how to set up the night. She would spend the whole day sighing over everything Draco did. Sure, it might get exhausting, but Cosmo had told her that building her man's ego was an important part of making sure he felt needed. In fact, in one article about how to increase a man's arousal, the magazine had practically guaranteed that compliments would enhance the sexual experience. If that meant gushing over Draco's potions while Snape breathed down their necks, Pansy would do it.

Then, after dinner, her perfectly trained cat would bring a letter to Draco telling him to go to the Room of Requirement. There he would find a room filled with scented candles and rose petals. A large bed covered in silk sheets and large pillows would be in the middle of the room, but Draco wouldn't find her there. No, he would find her in a large tub that was set towards the back of the room. She would covered in a convenient layer of bubbles, her red silk robe arranged deliberately on the ground so that he would realize just how convenient those bubbles were.

And everything was going according to plan. She had everything perfectly arranged; she just needed Draco to show up so the hymen-busting could proceed.

Of course, Draco had chosen the big day that Pansy had set aside to turn into a ferret. Sure, watching him antagonize Harry Potter was a daily event that Pansy derived great enjoyment from, but couldn't he have made sure that Mad-Eye Moody wasn't around before trying to curse Potter? Today was supposed to be perfect, and Draco had the gall to ruin it by turning into an ivory puffball with a twitchy nose.

McGonagall had transfigured him out of this ferret state, but it became increasingly clear throughout the day that the physical transformation was only the beginning of Draco's woes. To understand the change in his behavior as the hours progressed, it is important to know several facts about ferrets. For example, ferrets are apparently fond of something called the "weasel war dance." This involves frantic sideways movements, a tendency to knock into things, and a soft "cluck" sound called dooking. Of course, no one at the time understood why Draco was shaking his hips in a frenzied manner and clucking his tongue, but it became clear when he toppled over several bookcases that something was wrong.

It was the anal gland secretions that really freaked everyone out. No one would have had to experience them if Crabbe hadn't thrown an apple at Draco's head. Apparently, when startled, ferrets act much like skunks, which meant that the impact of the apple on Draco's head was followed by a terrible odor. It wasn't until later in the day—Draco was found in his room trying to mark the area around his bed using these secretions—that Pansy decided that it was time to call in Madame Pomfrey, who promptly prescribed a night in the infirmary for further care.

But Pansy had plans and she wasn't going to let them go to waste, especially when she had gotten herself so excited over the prospect of a magnificent bathtub. Easing herself into the soothing water, she tried to let the soft perfume of the scented bubbles wash away the grime of a day that involves the phrase, "anal gland secretions." Eventually, as she relaxed and closed her eyes, she found that the soft sound of music in the background was helping. Sure, the room was doing little to appease what she was starting to feel was a desperate need for sex, but at least it was doing some good for a short while.

So why on earth the room decided to let Fleur Delacour enter the room was beyond Pansy's comprehension. Surely there was something defective in the room. Or maybe it was Fleur. She was French, after all.

Initially, when the door opened, Pansy held out hope that Draco had made a miracle recovery. When she noticed a section of blonde hair poking through the door, she was practically grinning like Ron Weasley in front of a pile of food. But when the figure became complete as the image of Fleur, Pansy suddenly felt like a complete idiot. Here she was, in a tub and smiling like a buffoon in front of a girl who rendered all the boys around her incoherent with a single glance.

"'Ello?"

The bitch thought she could just waltz in here with her French accent like she owned the place. "You're not supposed to be in here," Pansy called out, glaring miserably from the tub. Then, speaking louder and slower when Fleur didn't seem to be leaving, "You're not supposed to be able to get in."

"Are you sure?" Fleur asked, looking curiously around the room. She was carrying a towel and basket of shower supplies. "I was looking all over zis castle for a shower, but eet iz too big. I passed by zis room three times and now eet just opens up with a tub." She was looking pointedly at the tub, making Pansy quite glad that there was a pile of bubbles to cover her up.

"Well, I don't know why it did that, but it shouldn't have. And you should really go now."

"Oh? Are you expecting someone?"

"Yes." Pansy paused. "Well, no, but—"

"Zen I do not see what is the problem," Fleur declared, walking towards Pansy. "Zis tub, it is big enough for us both, no?"

Before Pansy could stop her, Fleur had already started undressing, removing her sweater. As she slowly began unbuttoning her shirt, Pansy knew that she officially hated Fleur. It was one thing when she was just some perfect blonde princess who spoke in a pretty French accent and enchanted all the boys with her mere presence. But no, this girl had crossed the line. She was undressing! In front of Pansy!

Worst of all, her underwear matched.

Pansy wasn't sure why that was the worst fact of all. It just seemed so absurd that someone would wear a delicate blue lace bra that perfectly matched the delicate blue lace of her underwear. Cosmo hadn't prepared her for this. Was her underwear supposed to match? Was it supposed to do that thing where it perfectly encases the wearer's bum? Were breasts supposed to slope so perfectly?

No, Fleur Delacour was a freak of nature. Pansy was sure of it. There was no reason for why she should be staring so intently at another girl's body unless that girl was a freak.

If Fleur noticed Pansy staring, she made no mention of it. It seemed like that she was so accustomed to being the focus of other people's attention that she barely noticed it at all anymore. The thought seemed strangely sad to Pansy, the idea that adoration could be excessive to the point of being meaningless. She didn't have long to dwell on the pitfalls of beauty though because Fleur was currently standing completely naked in front of her and she had no idea where to look. Looking directly at the naked presence in front of her seemed far too obvious, but looking away was too prudish. And if there was one thing Pansy didn't want, it was to be considered a prude.

So Pansy settled on a guise she was far more comfortable with: bitch. "Don't you have your own special showers?" she sneered, staring defiantly at Fleur.

Fleur merely dipped her toe in the water to test its warmth. "I am already undressed," she said without even glancing at Pansy as she eased herself slowly into the water. "Aaaah," she sighed as the water formed a cover around her body. "Zis is so much better zan the showers they have given to us."

"I wouldn't get to used to it," Pansy replied. "It'll be gone after tonight. The room changes from night to night."

A great look of alarm appeared on Fleur's face. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "But zis is the first thing of 'Ogwarts that I have liked! The food is too rich, the classes too boring, and ze boys too ugly."

"They're not all bad," Pansy grumbled.

"Oh, I am sorry," Fleur said as she ran water from the tap over her face, sounding only vaguely sorry at best. "Do you date one of them?

Pansy wasn't sure why she was entertaining conversation with this invader. She was, however, becoming increasingly aware of the water trickling down Fleur's neck and further down onto her bare breasts. The realization that there were about a thousand boys who would pay to be in her position hit Pansy, and yet she was too riveted to consider giving up her seat. "Yes," she answered, her defenses still mounted. "Draco Malfoy. We've been dating since last year. And he is not ugly. In fact, he's quite amazing and cool."

Fleur seemed to barely be listening. She was more focused on the arduous task of washing her hair, her eyes closed as she leaned her head back and ran her fingers through the shining strands. Pansy had seen a shampoo commercial on one of those Muggle televisions before, and Fleur seemed to raise the action to an art. "Draco?" she said, her eyes still closed. "He is the one who is a ferret today?"

It took several seconds of aggravated silence for Pansy to pry her gritted teeth apart and respond. "Yes," she finally managed to say. "He's the one."

"Zat is too bad," Fleur said, her voice frustratingly not full of the condescension Pansy was anticipating. "In our schools, we would never transform a student into a ferret. Zat is simply not allowed."

"It's not allowed here either. I hope Mad-Eye gets fired for what he did." Then, feeling a need to defend Draco's honor, Pansy added eagerly, "Draco's dad is very powerful, you know. He once got Dumbledore fired!"

"But Dumbledore still teaches here, does he not?"

"Well," Pansy acquiesced, "it didn't last. But Mr. Malfoy almost got a hippogriff executed for nearly maiming Draco."

"Almost?"

"It escaped." Pansy was getting really tired of Fleur's failure to grasp the might of the Malfoys. She was asking two very valid questions, but that was two very valid questions too many. "Are you done?" she asked impatiently, drumming her fingers on the side of the bath.

"Am I making it difficult for you to bathe?" Fleur didn't really seem concerned about the inconvenience she was causing Pansy, instead working on lathering soap across her exposed skin as she raised her body out of the water. Pansy felt strangely concerned with that as well, carefully tracking the sheen of soap mixed with water that was now glistening down Fleur's breasts and onto her abdomen.

"You're interrupting what was a very nice relaxing bath."

One of Fleur's legs popped out of the water, exposing the lean muscle as she worked the soap down her smooth skin. "Why iz your boyfriend not here with you?" she asked, looking around the room to take in the magnificent décor. "I 'ardly think you are in this room to be alone."

"He was supposed to be here," she admitted. "But he's in the infirmary."

"Oh, because of the ferret?"

"Yes, because of the ferret," Pansy snarled, her fist tightening up in frustration. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to quell the rising tension in her body. When she opened her eyes, she was startled to see the pale expanse of Fleur's back only a wand's length away from her. "Uh…excuse me?"

Fleur looked over her shoulder and turned slightly to hold out her soap. "Will you wash my back?"

Pansy's mouth was suddenly very dry as she looked between the soap and the naked skin in front of her. "Can't you…uh…wash it yourself?"

As she pulled a stray hair over her shoulder, Fleur shrugged. "Perhaps," she said, her head still turned slightly in Pansy's direction. "But when I 'ave company, I much prefer to 'ave zem do it."

The bar of soap was in Pansy's hands before she had time to reflect on just how pathetic she was acting. Freezing up over having to wash another girl's back? Sure, Cosmo had never discussed this particular issue before, but surely she could figure it out. Rolling the soap in her hands, she reached out tentatively for Fleur's shoulders. She wasn't sure what she was expecting at first contact. Her hands brushed the base of Fleur's neck, and immediately, Pansy retracted her hand. The parts of her fingers that had felt the soft skin under them suddenly felt very hot, as if it were really Fleur who was touching her and not the other way around. Taking a deep breath, she extended her hands again and began to run them across Fleur's shoulders. She trailed the soap down the other girl's back, learning the way the muscles and bone were woven together to make the stunning figure in front of her.

The water pooled around Fleur's hips, reflecting the sight of her back while hinting at the hidden half of her body. Pansy nearly lost track of time as she cast what she hoped were covert glances at the water to see more of Fleur. It was only when the sight of Fleur's breasts reflected in the water caused the soap to slide out of her hands that she realized there was enough lather to mask the skin completely. She fumbled to catch the soap before it landed in the water, mumbling, "Um…I guess I'm done."

Fleur eased herself back into the water and rinsed herself of the soap. Pansy took the opportunity to sit back down so the water was covering her again. When Fleur was done, she rose up, this time facing Pansy. Smiling, she said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Pansy replied, trying to hide her amazement at the sight of Fleur's bare breasts.

"Would you like me to wash you?"

Pansy's head shot up, her eyes widening at the prospect of Fleur's hands wandering across her body. "No…I can wash myself," she answered uneasily, trying desperately to suppress the flush of heat rushing to her cheeks.

"Very well," Fleur replied breezily, turning to leave. Pansy was just about to relax completely when Fleur looked back. "Your name?" she asked. "I do not think I know it."

"Pansy. Pansy Parkinson."

Fleur leaned forward, lightly placing a finger under Pansy's chin and raising her head. "Panzy," she echoed. "That iz a flower, yes? Like me." Pansy could only nod slightly, taken aback by the gentle touch. "Well, Pansy Parkinson," Fleur said as she edged closer, her lips brushing Pansy's cheek so that the words were warm against her. "It is nice to meet you." She softly kissed Pansy's cheek and then pulled away to get out of the bath. She calmly put her clothes back on, gathered her belongings, and with a cheerful, "Au revoir," exited the room. As she watched, Pansy raised her hand to that spot on her cheek that now felt so distinct from the rest of her as the newly formed memory of Fleur's lips seared its way into the skin.


	2. Cosmo Life Lesson No. 2

**Cosmo Life Lesson #2: If you want to know his thoughts, learn to overanalyze body language**

Pansy was severely disappointed that the first task of the Triwizard Tournament didn't end Fleur's life. Ever since the awkward bath situation, she had spent a considerable amount of time plotting the demise of the persistently infuriating French girl. On the day of the first task, as the students crowded around the massive pit filled with ominous black rocks and charred bushes, Pansy began to hope that the tournament would do the job for her.

Why was Pansy so concerned with the imminent destruction of Fleur Delacour?

Simple. Fleur was trying to steal her boyfriend.

Pansy had not been able to convince her friends of the threat Fleur posed. When she launched into tirades explaining Fleur attempts to take Draco away from her, Pansy's friends replied with skeptical coughs. But Pansy knew better. She had spent an evening in a bath with Fleur. If you want to know your enemy, Pansy recited to herself, soap her back.

Of course, Pansy hadn't told anyone about that night in the Room of Requirement. She had considered it, tempted to use the story as an example of the Beauxbaton girl's extreme impropriety. But every time she had come close to mentioning it, the thought of sharing what had passed seemed too revealing. She hadn't even mentioned it to Draco.

But Pansy was very astute. When Fleur began to appear in her peripheral vision, Pansy knew exactly what was going on. She was trying to get with Draco. It was so obvious, and Pansy knew that she only had herself to blame. She had spent all that time talking up the great Malfoys, and now Fleur wanted in. The stupid wench probably thought that dating Draco would win her the tournament. That was why she kept flitting around them, glancing periodically in their direction like some silly tart. She had even invited herself to Slytherin social gatherings, her obnoxious beauty and charm filling up the room until she had captivated everyone.

So when it became apparent that the first task was dragons, Pansy closed her eyes and quietly wished that Fleur would suffer a humiliating defeat. Unfortunately, Fleur was a perfectly capable witch. In fact, Pansy would go as far as to call her clever. Hypnotizing the dragon so that it fell asleep? At least that was better than transfiguring a rock. But Pansy was still disappointed that the fire on Fleur's skirt didn't consume her. When Fleur emerged from under the sleeping form of the Welsh Green, proudly carrying the golden egg in one arm as she glowed from underneath layers of ash and grime, Pansy refused to join in the applause. She was so disappointed that she couldn't even comfort Draco's distress over Potter's success.

However, as much as Pansy would have loved to devote more time to plotting Fleur's destruction, she had another more pressing issue to attend to: the Yule Ball.

Unlike many of her classmates, Pansy didn't have to go through the trials and tribulations of finding a date. All she had to do was tell Draco the color of her dress so that he could match accordingly. Still, the Yule Ball presented certain opportunities that Pansy felt she should use to her advantage. She was still in possession of her virginity and this was seriously starting to grate on her nerves.

It wasn't for lack of trying. The Room of Requirement was all booked up, and no amount of blackmail or threats could get Pansy a spot on the waiting list. She had tried several times to use empty classrooms or deserted dungeons, but tragedy always struck in the form of interfering classmates and professors. During one particularly promising moment, Crabbe and Goyle accidentally stumbled in. Draco had nearly hexed them.

Pansy was less merciful.

When Crabbe and Goyle went to the infirmary that night, they were covered in a nightmarish, putrid green combination of warts and tentacles. A group of first years had fainted at the sight. Pansy's sexual frustration was starting to take a toll on the student body.

But the Yule Ball was going to be different; Pansy just knew it. It was a school dance, and she knew that school dances were essentially life's way of allowing teenagers to formalize their sexual interest in each other. All she had to do was wear the perfect dress and show up with Draco hanging off her arm. Everything else would just fall into place.

Still, Pansy had learned to not leave anything to chance. She couldn't risk another ferret incident or intruding presence. Pansy had developed a strategy as soon as rumors of the Yule Ball began to swirl amongst the chattering student body. Recruiting a set of entrepreneurial young Slytherin students, she presided over them as if they were preparing for battle. To start off, she sent them on scouting missions to decide on the best location in terms of isolation and ambiance, specifically instructing them to avoid the Astronomy Tower. She laughed whenever she imagined the inevitable mass gathering of couples in the tower. It almost made her wish that she could be around to witness the embarrassing consequences of their lack of imagination.

When a classroom in a relatively quiet corridor of the school had been selected, a series of charms and spells were tested on the perimeter of the room to determine their efficacy. It was an arduous task that required the group of young students to make frequent trips to the library. Pansy was more than happy to take credit for their improved performance in Charms.

Pansy had set herself to work on what she felt was the most important part of the evening: the decor. This was more difficult now that she didn't have a Room of Requirement to do the work for her. The desks had to be stashed away to make room for everything. The bed was not quite as magnificent as she would have liked, but at least the sheets were silk. The dusty walls were cleaned and then hidden by a veneer of pale blue. Delicate balls of light floated high in the air, casting a soft glow around the room. A set of gauzy curtains allowed the light from outside to pour into the room, but when the night sky came out, it would be the haze of the moons and stars that kept them company.

Really—Pansy decided when she had finished—Draco was quite lucky to have her.

The last measure that Pansy took was to make sure that some of her minions were invited to the Yule Ball. Their assignment was simple: make sure that Potter and his friends came nowhere near Draco. It would have warmed Pansy's heart to see Draco take on the Golden Trio while they were in their finest, but it wasn't worth the risk of another jinx or animal transfiguration. She loved Draco, but not enough to put up with anal gland secretions again.

When the day of the ball came, Pansy felt an unusual mass of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. What if something went wrong? What if she had made a mistake? As soon as the thought crept into her head, she shooed it away. Pansy Parkinson didn't make mistakes, she reminded herself as she put on her dress. Tonight would be perfect.

Of course, life insisted on testing her commitment to that belief.

It was all Granger's fault. How that beaver of a girl had managed to hoodwink Viktor Krum into taking her as his date was beyond Pansy. Granger was a good witch, but Pansy felt certain that only an expert knowledge of the Dark Arts could incite that kind of cosmic discrepancy. And worse, everyone seemed to be amazed by Granger's transformation. It was as if going from hideous to something slightly less hideous was something to be proud of. What was the point of being pretty if it took several bottles of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion to get there?

The only thing that got everyone to shut up about Hermione was Fleur. Pansy thought everyone would be tired of just how gorgeous Fleur was. It wasn't like stunning blondes suddenly decide to no longer be stunning. But when Fleur emerged from the entrance, Pansy couldn't help but gasp. All the words that ran through Pansy's head regarding the way her hair shined and her body moved in the silver silk of her dress seemed too cliché and undeserving. It was only when Fleur turned and caught her staring that Pansy remembered that the girl was an affront to everything she believed in. Fleur looked at Draco and then back at Pansy, smiling slightly before turning to her date.

Pansy was fuming, her fists balled up in her dress as she watched the flow of Fleur's skirt around the dance floor, angry at the stupid way everything she did seemed so damn perfect. She could hear Fleur's laughter over the myriad conversations of the crowd, a soft ringing melody that looped over and over in her head. Fleur was teasing her, making fun of her.

Pansy wished she had never gone to the Room of Requirement that night. She would never have met Fleur, and she would never have gotten herself into this sort of situation. The worst part was just how frequently she thought about that night. She didn't want Fleur to be worth more than five seconds of thought, but when she closed her eyes, the sight of Fleur's pale wet skin played in her mind. As she watched Fleur move around the dance floor, laughing at what was probably some inane joke, Pansy couldn't help but remember the way she traveled languidly through the water, the way her body curved in and out. She could almost feel the warmth of Fleur on her fingers again as her eyes dropped to where Roger Davies' hand had rested on Fleur's back.

"Are you okay?"

Pansy was startled by the sound of Draco's voice. She had practically forgotten he was standing right next to her. Shaking the image of Fleur sans clothing out of her head, Pansy smiled. "Of course I'm fine. I'm here with you after all."

Draco grinned back and slipped his hand around Pansy's. "You just looked…bothered, that's all."

Pansy flushed a little when she thought about just what was bothering her. "Oh, it's nothing," she assured him, trying to mask the unease in her voice. "Just a bit of nausea at the sight of Granger."

"Ugh, yes." His lip curled in disgust as he rolled his eyes. "I thought that a Durmstrang champion would have better taste."

"I bet she bewitched him," Pansy whispered conspiratorially. "She probably used as much magic on him as she did on her hair."

"Oh, look," Draco said happily, pointing at the champions. "Potter keeps tripping on his feet." He nudged a few of his friends to share the sight, inciting a mass of derisive snorts and whispered taunts.

And with that, Pansy knew that the evening had to go well. Even Granger's transformation could do nothing to damper her excitement. Pansy was at a dance with Draco, and that was all that she needed to know that the night would be everything she had hoped it would be.

The rest of the ball was a blur of drinking and dancing. Pansy knew that she was going to go hoarse from screaming over the loud music, but she was so caught up in the frenzy of laughing with her friends and being twirled around the dance floor that all worries faded away. She had everything she wanted. And by the end of the night, she would have everything she needed.

As the last chords of music reverberated around the hall, couples began to slowly seek each other. Students tried to subtly figure out the logistics of their amorous exploits, relying on the ancient language of suggestively raised eyebrows and head nods. Pansy was grateful for the work she had put into planning the night. If everyone else had read Cosmo, they would know that relationships and sex require work. Even a spontaneous encounter necessitates forethought when done the Cosmo way.

Pansy wanted to check one last time that everything was set up correctly, leaving Draco behind with clear instructions on how and when to go to the classroom. Every few seconds, Pansy came across another couple headed towards the Astronomy Tower. None of them seemed to realize the foolishness of their plan, and Pansy sure wasn't going to take time out of her busy schedule to explain it to them. The corridors became increasingly more desolate until her footsteps were the only things she heard echoing through the hall. She turned the last corner to see a pair of stalwart first years standing guard over the door. In exchange for their services, Pansy had promised them a spot on the Quidditch team next year. Well, she thought, she still had a while to figure out how to make that happen. Maybe they would forget by then. Or she could always injure one of them before try-outs.

Dismissing them, she waved her wand towards the door and let herself in. Standing at the entrance, she looked proudly at her handiwork.

"Oh, this eez so beautiful!"

Pansy didn't have to look to know who was behind her. Instantly, all of the good will that had been building inside of her vanished, replaced with annoyance and a strange jump of anxiety in her chest.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" The words came out as if Pansy were trying to punch the air. She refused to look at Fleur.

"I am always finding you in the most beautiful rooms," Fleur said, ignoring Pansy's question. She took a step forward, walking straight into the magical barrier Pansy had set up.

Pansy smiled and turned around. "You can't come in unless I invite you." She was pleased to see the slightly flustered look on Fleur's face as she reached out to touch the magical barrier with her fingers.

Fleur retracted her hand and looked at Pansy. They were less than a meter apart, and Pansy could make out the individual strands of Fleur's hair shining silver from the floating lights. "Will you invite me in zen?"

"No," Pansy answered quickly. "Of course not. I don't even know what you're doing here."

"I am waiting for zis boy. Roger Daveez." Fleur looked around the hallway as if she expected him to pop up at any moment. "But I think that I 'ave lost him."

"That's too bad," Pansy replied without an ounce of sympathy. She moved to shut the door in Fleur's face.

Before she could close the door all the way, Fleur asked, "And you? Your boy…this Draco? Iz he coming?"

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

"I waz just curious."

Pansy couldn't believe the nerve of this girl. Fleur must think she was pretty thick to not know what was going on. "I know what you're doing," she said, lowering her voice as she leaned forward. "It won't work. Not with me."

A slightly shocked expression appeared on Fleur's face, but she quickly hid it. "Oh? What iz it that I am doing?"

"You're trying to get with Draco!"

Fleur laughed out loud, the sound ringing shrilly in Pansy's ears. Every time Fleur went to say something, a fresh new round of laughter had her doubling over.

"What's so funny?" Pansy asked angrily.

"I am so sorry," Fleur said, as she wiped tears from her eyes. "It iz just so ridiculous. Me? Wanting Draco? Why would you think zat?"

Pansy recoiled in confusion. "Because he's a Malfoy, of course."

"And I am a Delacour. I have no need for a Malfoy."

"You're lying, you stupid cow." Pansy edged closer to the threshold, staring boldly into Fleur's eyes. "You're showing up everywhere and inviting yourself to our parties. You're doing it so that you can steal Draco away from me."

Fleur stopped laughing, her gaze drifting over Pansy's face. "So this whole time, you think that I am wanting thiz Draco?" She didn't sound like she was teasing Pansy. In fact, she sounded somewhat earnest.

"Well, isn't it?"

"No."

Pansy swallowed nervously. "Why are you showing up everywhere then?"

Fleur looked up at the doorframe and then back down at Pansy. "If you invite me in, I can explain it to you."

Pansy looked behind her, assessing the possible damage she could cause Fleur without destroying her hard work. "Why don't I just step outside?"

"Very well." Fleur moved aside, letting Pansy exit the room.

"Okay," Pansy said when she was standing in the hall. "Now will you tell me why you won't go away?"

"I am everywhere because I want to see you."

Pansy took a step backwards into the wall. "What?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. "What does that even mean?"

Fleur placed a finger under Pansy's chin, just as she had before. Leaning forward, she whispered, "But surely you know what that means?"

"No. No, I don't."

"Perhaps I should explain it to you," Fleur answered, her face only a few centimeters away from Pansy's.

"I don't think that's necessary."

But Fleur had already closed the distance between them. Her lips were soft against Pansy's, a sharp contrast to the hard wall behind her. The kiss started out gentle at first, a light caress of warm lips against her. Pansy was too shocked to close her eyes, and she realized that she was staring right into Fleur's face. She could count blemishes if she wanted to, though she wouldn't make it very far past zero.

She wanted to protest, to exclaim that this was not what she wanted. But Fleur's lips were so convincing, and Pansy found herself closing her eyes and tilting her head so that she could respond. She was hesitant at first, unsure that she should proceed. One of Fleur's hands was still holding onto her chin, the other flat against the wall so that Pansy was trapped. Pansy was so caught up in the feeling of Fleur's kiss that she didn't realize just how close their bodies had become. She could feel the curves of Fleur's breast against her own. A desire to touch Fleur worked its way through her until it was the single commanding thought in her head.

She opened her lips, allowing Fleur's insistent tongue to taste her. The hand that had been raising her chin moved further back to grab onto Pansy's hair, pushing her further into Fleur. The kiss felt full of contradictions. Delicate and yet forceful. Strange and yet so comfortable. All she knew was that every contact that their bodies made seemed to ignite a need that she had not been aware of.

Fleur's hand trailed down, caressing the outline of Pansy's body until it found the skirt of her dress. Fleur began to pull up at it until she found the bare skin of Pansy's thigh. It was only then that Pansy returned to her senses.

"What are you doing?" she cried out, pushing the other girl away from her.

Fleur cocked her head, a faintly bemused look on her face. "I did not think I was doing anything you did not want."

"Well, you're wrong!" Pansy spat out. "I don't like girls! Not like that anyway."

That statement earned a smirk from Fleur. "Are you quite certain?"

"Yes!"

The sound of someone else's footsteps approached them. From around the corner, Draco was hurriedly walking towards them. Pansy quickly smoothed out her dress and beamed at him. Turning back to Fleur, she said, "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to be alone. With my boyfriend."

Fleur smiled as if she saw right through Pansy. "I guess I should find my boy for ze evening," she replied breezily. "Or maybe I will just find another one. Zere are so many in this castle." And with that, she left, leaving only the scent of her perfume on Pansy's dress.

That night, as Draco's fingers clumsily figured their way inside of her, she closed her eyes and imagined that the fingers were the slender digits that Fleur had used to touch her. An image of Fleur rising above her, naked and wet, played in her head. She found herself wishing that Draco's hair was longer, that his body was curvier—that everything about him that was Draco could become more like Fleur instead.


	3. Pansy Parkinson Life Lesson No. 1

**Pansy Parkinson Life Lesson #1: Never trust a Muggle magazine to do a witch's job**

In the five years since the Yule Ball, Pansy's life had begun a slow devolution into a tragic mess. She hadn't realized it at first. With the Inquisitorial Squad keeping her busy for most of her fifth year, Pansy had figured that she was on the fast track for success. Being named prefect had been exciting. But when Umbridge began her slow takeover of Hogwarts, Pansy knew she had found an opportunity for real power. She was the one who had suggested the idea to Umbridge and she had been the one to pick out the group. If Umbridge hadn't turned out to be an incompetent fool, Pansy would have been able to live out her dream of complete Hogwarts domination.

By the end of her fifth year, things had already started getting worse. The Inquisitorial Squad was disbanded, Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts, and worst of all, Draco's father had been sent to Azkaban. Pansy had tried to maintain faith in the great Cosmoduring her times of trouble, voraciously tearing through the pages for anything that could help her. But while learning the 32 ways to make her butt sexier had been a helpful distraction, it did nothing to fix the real issues. At times, she was tempted to write in for more direct advice.

Dear Cosmo,

I think my boyfriend is being sent on a suicide mission by the Dark Lord, but he won't tell me anything about it. How do I help him avoid almost certain death?

-Worried Witch

Dear Cosmo,

My boyfriend is pulling away from me. He doesn't eat or sleep much, and he doesn't seem interested in sex anymore. He spends most of his days brooding in the girl's loo. Whenever I see him, his eyes are red as if he's been crying. He even bought a beautiful necklace, but I think he used it to hex a girl instead of giving it to me. I just want to help him, but he keeps turning me away. How do I get through to him?

-Helpless in Hogwarts

Dear Cosmo,

My boyfriend tried to kill our headmaster. Ever since then, a dark wizard has taken control of the wizarding world. All the death and destruction has put a damper on our relationship. How do you balance love with terror?

-Trying to have it all

But Cosmo didn't have any helpful advice for any of these dilemmas. Pansy didn't have to send them in to know that. They'd probably tell her to give Draco a blow job so that he felt like a man—as if she hadn't tried that already. By the time the war ended, Pansy had found her interest in Cosmo's suggestions waning.

The final straw came soon after the celebrations ended. Draco dumped her. Well, the dumping wasn't the real issue. Pansy was upset about the end of their relationship, but after two years of Draco retreating into himself, she wasn't surprised. No, what really pissed Pansy off was that Draco had dumped her for Astoria Greengrass.

Astoria had never done anything to hurt Pansy. When Pansy looked back on her seven years at Hogwarts, the younger girl barely even registered in her memory. And that was what Pansy found so offensive about Draco's new relationship. How could Draco dump her—Pansy Parkinson, queen of Slytherin—for some inoffensive, useless human being. Astoria was pretty in the bland way that girls with uninteresting features were pretty. The only worthy aspect to her was the wealth and connections her family provided. Of course, these were probably important factors to the Malfoys, who were eager to rehabilitate their image from power-hungry Death Eaters to something a bit cuddlier.

Insult had already been added to injury, but life insisted on finding more ways to try and ruin Pansy. During this time, she realized that no Muggle magazine would be able to help her. All of the connections she had so strenuously acquired in Hogwarts were failing her. Now, a year after graduation, all she had to show for her hard work was a crappy apartment paid for with a crappier job. After weeks of lowering her expectations, she had been able to scrounge up employment as a sort of secretary-for-hire, sent to wherever she was directed so that she could file papers and send out owls.

She was not excited for her most recent assignment: Gringotts. Draco had started working there thanks to some exceptional manipulation on Lucius' part. She had been tempted to turn down the assignment, but Pansy wasn't about to allow a silly thing like ex-boyfriends ruin her chance at a few Galleons. As she put on the drab Gringotts uniform, she mentally ran through a list of things she could say if she ran into him. So far, "Draco? Sorry, I didn't recognize you with your receding hairline," was high on the list.

The bank hadn't opened yet when she arrived, but there was already a flurry of activity as goblins bustled through the main hallway. Witches and wizards were engaged in serious discussions about the value of Galleons as they hurried across the floor. Sighing, Pansy made her way through the room until she reached a door that opened up to reveal a suite of offices.

She hadn't been told anything about her assignment except that she was to wait in the reception area for further instruction. She sat down on the black couches, watching a tank full of fish that changed colors and went invisible when provoked. An old witch was hunched over the reception desk, scratching a quill methodically over a piece of parchment. She raised her head slightly and noted Pansy's presence. "Are you Pansy?" she asked dryly.

"Yes."

Without saying another word, the old lady took a new piece of parchment and scribbled a note on it. Tapping the parchment with her wand, the note folded into a paper plane and promptly flew off.

Whenever Pansy heard the sound of a door opening or footsteps approaching, she prepared herself for the possibility that she would run into Draco. With every witch and wizard who passed by, Pansy's relief grew.

A sharp sound of heels clicking down a hallway stuck out from the background noise. The sound maintained a strict beat, the kind heard from women who treat heels as a way of life. The sound kept coming towards her, but unlike all the other witches and wizards who had kept walking by, the wearer of the shoes stopped abruptly in front of the reception area. Pansy stared at the shoes first, and as her gaze slowly drifted upwards, a mixture of dread and excitement filled her.

"Fleur?"

Fleur grinned and walked towards Pansy, leaning forward to lightly kiss her on both cheeks in greeting. In the corner, the old witch grunted and shook her head in disapproval. Pansy could swear she heard her muttering, "Damn French."

Pansy followed Fleur in a daze. She hadn't talked to the other woman since the Yule Ball. But even though they didn't talk to each other, Fleur had managed to make her presence known through the rest of her stay. Whenever Pansy saw her, Fleur would smile slyly at her, her eyes running over Pansy so that she felt exposed. And if Draco was with her, Fleur would move silkily around them in a way that Pansy knew was all for her.

She had wanted to hate Fleur. Sometimes, she almost did. But in those moments, the desire to punch Fleur turned into a need that Pansy would never admit to.  
Now, she felt inadequate next to Fleur. Fleur was still beautiful, perhaps even more than she had been five years before. Her uniform was crisp on her body, her shirt pinching in where her waist was its most slender. Her skirt fit close to her, moving perfectly with the sway of her hips. And the simple wedding band completed her outfit, reaffirming just how together everything in Fleur's life was. Next to her, Pansy was just some glum secretary wearing an ill-fitting uniform and boring shoes.

Fleur was chattering excitedly about the tasks she needed Pansy to carry out that day. There were documents to be sorted and owls to be sent and all sorts of mundane tasks that sounded almost exciting when listed in Fleur's voice. At one point, they passed an office with a plaque reading, "Draco Malfoy." Pansy paused for a second and looked over the closed door. She wondered if Draco was in there at that moment. He probably had some dumb picture of him and Astoria exchanging sappy glances on his desk.

When she started moving again, she realized that Fleur was staring at her with an unreadable expression. She made no reference to the name on the plaque or Pansy's pause. Instead, she kept walking briskly, silently urging Pansy to move on with her.

Compared to some assignments Pansy had, working for Fleur was actually quite nice. On one job, she had been asked to clean up an office full of Doxy droppings. If it weren't for the fabulous black pumps she had been saving up for, Pansy would have walked away. The pumps had been worth it though. On the few occasions she went out, wearing those shoes ensured that she didn't have to spend a Knut on drinks.

But all the tasks she had to do for Fleur were—at worst—boring. There were at least fifty things she would rather be doing, but sitting in a comfortable office while reading and responding to owls wasn't a terrible way to spend a day. From what Pansy gathered, Fleur's job involved acting as a liaison between Gringotts and several banks in France. While Pansy stayed at her desk, Fleur was constantly moving in and out of the office. The times that she stayed in the office for longer periods of time, it was to engage in Floo conversations that Pansy didn't have the French skills to understand. She was also too distracted by the sight of Fleur bent over a fireplace to process anything she was saying.

When it came time for her lunch break, Pansy quietly ate her sandwich at her desk. After she finished, she stared around the room in silence. After her break, she was supposed to wait for Fleur to get back so that she could go through the next list of tasks. Pansy wasn't sure how to occupy her time until then.

She left the office, walking slowly down the hallway and judging the décor she saw in the open office. This time, when she reached Draco's office, she contemplated her options. She could keep walking and pretend he didn't exist, but that seemed like she was running. Pansy wasn't some stupidly brave Gryffindor, but she wasn't about to run away from a challenge either.

So she did the next best thing. She knocked. When no one answered, she tapped the door knob with her wand and slowly eased the door open. The room was dark, a problem that Pansy easily solved with a wave of her wand.

The office was small, but it had promise. Pansy would have moved the couch to a different wall, and maybe rearranged the desk, but it seemed that Draco had at least learned something in his years with her. She ran her fingers over the desk, trying to figure out just what she expected to get out of this intrusion. She picked up a picture frame, which contained—as she had expected—a rather disgusting picture of Draco and Astoria rubbing their noses against each other. At that moment, Pansy began to contemplate the various forms of revenge that she could enact in his office. She could always conjure up some excess Doxy droppings or transfigure some of his supplies into mini hippogriff figurines.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't hear the sound of Fleur's shoes approaching the room. It was the scent of her perfume that gave her away. Pansy turned to face her, flushing in embarrassment.

Closing the door behind her, Fleur looked critically around the room. "Hiz taste iz not as good as yours, no?" She glanced back at Pansy, an eyebrow arched imperiously.

"I..um…I just stopped in," Pansy said guiltily, unsure of how to respond.  
Pansy felt her heart racing as Fleur walked towards her. Was she going to be fired? She couldn't afford to lose this assignment—not with her rent due so soon.

"I do not like zis new girlfriend of Draco's," Fleur said, taking the picture from Pansy's hand. She rolled her eyes as the Astoria in the photograph offered her nose to Draco again. "She iz so boring. Not like you." She looked up at Pansy and set the picture back down.

Pansy's throat had gone completely dry. Breathing had become increasingly difficult with each of Fleur's approaching steps. "Yeah," she finally managed to say. "Well, you can't win them all."

"Really?" Fleur was staring at her with an inquisitive look. "I never though zat you were a girl who accepts defeat."

Pansy straightened her back. "Whatever, Frenchy. Zat is just ze way thingz are," she shot back in a terrible impression of Fleur's accent.

Fleur's expression remained calm as she stepped closer to Pansy. "You should know zat I don't accept defeat either."

"Of course you don't," Pansy grumbled. "When's the last time you didn't get what you wanted?"

"I think zat we both ze answer…."

Fleur moved in closer, forcing Pansy to back up onto the desk. "Aren't you married?" she asked, glancing down at the band on Fleur's ring finger.

"Yes." Fleur raised her hand slightly to look at the ring. She smiled as she gazed lovingly at it. "But Bill iz always travelling. He and I have…arrangements."

Pansy's hands were gripping the edge of the desk. She tried to focus on the hard edge of the wood painfully pressing into her palms—anything to keep her mind off the smooth skin of Fleur's neck. "That's great and all, but I should probably go—"

Fleur cut off Pansy's pathetic attempt at escape. "What were you going to do?"

"Huh?"

"To his office? You were going to do something, yes? For revenge."

Pansy cringed, embarrassed that her thought process was so obvious. "I couldn't think of anything," she finally admitted. "I mean, I did think of some things, but nothing good enough."

"May I offer a suggestion?" Fleur said, lightly stroking Pansy's cheek.

Pansy yanked her head away. "I already told you. I don't like girls." She tried to limit her breathing, afraid of the closeness of their bodies as her chest rose.

"Ah, yes, of course." Fleur pressed in further. She extended a hand to the desk so that it both supported her and made it impossible for Pansy to move away. She drew a finger slowly down towards the top of Pansy's blouse. "But you see, I'm not a girl anymore. And neither, it seems, are you."

She was toying with the top button, turning it between her fingers. Pansy tensed up, but she said nothing when Fleur released the button from the confines of the buttonhole. Her eyes were trained on Pansy's as she continued to trail her finger down, slowly undoing each button until the shirt was un-tucked and hiding nothing. Only then did Fleur break eye contact, her gaze shifting down. When she looked back up, a predatory look glinted in the bright blue of her eyes.

But Pansy was nobody's prey. Grabbing Fleur's blouse in one hand, she pulled the other woman towards her. Their lips clashed hungrily against each other. As the taste of Fleur filled her, Pansy finally admitted to herself just how much she had craved this. There was no Draco to hold her back, no need to cling to a misguided sense of her own desires. This was the first moment in so long that she could have something she wanted, and nothing would stop her from claiming it.

She made quick work of Fleur's blouse, tossing it off to the side. Fleur's hands were running across her skin, teasing her as they skimmed over the top of her breasts and then down her abdomen. Her hand rested on Pansy's thigh, an intoxicating warmth that she could feel through the fabric of her skirt. She pressed her body against Fleur's, wanting to feel the other woman against every inch of her.

Fleur broke the kiss to trail her lips down Pansy's neck. Pansy tilted her head back to allow her greater access. As the heat of Fleur's mouth cut an intense path across her skin, Pansy realized that she was staring at her shoulders. The image of Fleur's bare back played in her head again, and before she knew what she was doing, Pansy reached out and swept an intrusive bra strap off a shoulder. She ran her hand along the smooth ridges of muscle and bone, reliving the memory of Fleur's wet skin underneath her hands. There was such an exhilarating sense of relief to finally giving in to this desire.

The path of Fleur's lips was became more demanding, her tongue sweeping over the skin that covered Pansy's pulse. When her teeth scraped against that area, Pansy let out a gasp that turned into a moan as the pressure increased. She wove her hand through thick blonde hair, urging Fleur to continue. With her free hand, she unhooked Fleur's bra. The feeling of Fleur's exposed breasts pressing urgently into her was so different from her previous experience, so strange compared to hardness of a man's chest. And yet there something in it that was so much more satisfying than Pansy could have imagined.

Fleur went on her knees as she continued her masterful work down Pansy's chest and abdomen. Her hand pushed up Pansy's skirt, teasing the band of her knickers. Pansy watched, mesmerized by the sight of Fleur kneeling before her. She gasped when Fleur's lips began a tortuously slow path up the inside of her thighs. Her hips bucked slightly when she felt teeth against the patch of skin next to her knickers. If she thought Fleur had been teasing her at Hogwarts, that was nothing compared to what she was being put through now.

She felt a finger taunting her through the fabric of her panties. Relaxing into the touch, she moaned when Fleur finally pulled the knickers down and let her finger weave delicately back and forth through Pansy's folds. With every touch, Pansy could feel herself become wetter around Fleur's finger, which made the next touch even more pleasurable.

Fleur's tongue began to trace the same path, giving her fingers freedom to explore elsewhere. Pansy reached down to run her hand through Fleur's hair again, afraid that Fleur might suddenly decide to stop. The slow, steady path of her tongue was matched by the pace of her finger inside of Pansy, working in tandem to bring her closer and closer to the edge. The pace began to increase as her tongue localized around Pansy's clitoris. And just as she thought she had reached her limit, Fleur slipped in another finger. The combined sensation inside of her and against her body was overwhelming, and Pansy cried out softly, begging Fleur not to stop. She felt her orgasm building up inside of her until it finally took over, her hips bucking against the last strokes of Fleur's tongue.

But Pansy had put this off for five years, and she needed more. She took a few deep breaths as Fleur stood up. Fleur's lips were still moist as they locked with Pansy's, but neither woman was concerned with that. It was much more important that they make it to the black couch. As Pansy directed Fleur backwards, she reached under her skirt to remove Fleur's knickers. When Fleur's calves were flush with the couch, they managed to settle down onto the cushions.

Pansy looked down at the sight of Fleur, her bare breasts heaving in expectation as her eyes glazed over in desire. Pansy leaned down to flick her tongue across one nipple, her thumb caressing the other breast. Fleur arched her back into the touch, moaning as Pansy nipped at responsive skin.

The couch was not quite large enough to accommodate them, and they both had a leg hanging off the couch. Pansy didn't realize at first that Fleur's skirt had been riding up, or that she could feel Fleur's thigh between her legs. But when the firm muscle pushed higher and higher, an overwhelming longing to push back took over Pansy. She began to ride her hips forward so that she was rubbing against the bare skin, throwing her head back as each thrust sent an intense heat through her entire body.

Fleur was grinding back against her, but it wasn't enough. Sitting upright, she adjusted their positions so that the legs still on the couch were wrapped around each other's bodies. She wrapped her other leg on top of Pansy's so that they were effectively scissored against each other. The position wasn't entirely comfortable thanks to the confines of the couch—and there was nothing decorous the way their skirts bunch around their waists. But none of that became relevant when their vulvas made contact.

Pansy had worked hard since she was fourteen to make sure that she always knew what to do during sex—a much easier task when she was with Draco. This was the first time she felt unsure of what to do, but the sense of discovery was enthralling. She pieced together the mechanics by gauging Fleur's reactions, moving her hips until she had found the way to draw out a breathy moan. As she eased into a steady tempo, taking in the very new sensation of a being in such intimate contact with another woman, she started wondering why she hadn't tried this before. They were practically clinging to each other at this point, their lips meeting in between short bursts of breath.

When Pansy looked into Fleur's eyes, the blue of her irises took on a lustful haze. They were both pressing against each other, locked in a rhythm of mutual need. Fleur cried out, but she quickly muffled the sound by groaning into another grueling kiss. When she released Pansy's lips, she whispered a series of French commands that Pansy could only hope she was adhering to.

They were becoming sticky with sweat as they both sought the friction between their bodies. Fleur's breath was becoming shorter as every exhalation became a punctuated moan. When her climax came, Pansy could feel it in the rough undulation of Fleur's hips into hers. And still, Fleur kept going, her nails digging into Pansy's back as they rocked hard against each other. Pansy felt another climax building inside of her, and just when she reached the moment of release—

"Pansy! What the hell?"

Pansy was confused at first. Why was someone else in the room? Didn't they know it was rude to interrupt an orgasm? But then she looked over and saw Draco, and that's when she remembered where he was.

Still, he could have knocked.

From behind him emerged Astoria, a very frightened look on her face. "Dray-dray, what's going on?"

Pansy snickered when she heard, "Dray-dray."

"Astoria, why don't you go wait outside?" he said, ushering her out into the hallway. When he came back in, Pansy and Fleur had already started scouting the room for their clothes. "What the hell, Pansy? Is this your idea of revenge?"

"No," she said calmly as she buttoned up her blouse. "This is my idea of having a good shag." She imagined most women would be embarrassed if their ex-boyfriend caught them having sex with their female boss—especially if they were on his couch. But really, what did she have to be ashamed of? She'd taken Draco's virginity. As far as she was concerned, he owed her an office for her sexual escapades.

Draco looked between her and Fleur in complete shock. He clearly didn't know how to process the scene he had walked in on. "You know, I can make it so that you don't get work here again."

Fleur laughed brightly. "No, no. I like Panzy. And I believe that I am your superior, Draco. You may be a Malfoy, but you do not speek French well enough to replace me." She was straightening out her skirt, generally unconcerned with Draco's threats. "Oh," she added sweetly. "Your couch—it is quite lovely. Thank you for allowing us to use eet."

She crossed the room to the door, leaving Pansy still standing and feeling annoyed with Draco for his intrusion. Draco was bright red in anger. As Pansy looked over his business suit and recalled the insipid photo of him and Astoria, she almost felt pity for him. For once, she realized that she had things better off than him. Sure, she had a job she didn't like and an apartment she wanted to leave, but she'd be able to find a way out of this situation. Draco would always be dependent on his parents to figure out his choices for him. They had chosen his side in the war, and now they chose his job and his girlfriend. But no one chose for Pansy.

Draco was glaring at her. "Pansy, you can't be this desperate for attention."

"Trust me, Draco," she replied. "The last thing I wanted a few minutes ago was your attention."

"We should talk," he said through gritted teeth. "You can't just come into my office and have sex on my couch!"

"Well, I'd hate to find out how you feel about me having sex on your desk then," she said innocently.

Draco's eyes widened as he looked between her and the table. "We really need to discuss this."

"Perhaps it can wait," Fleur said, grabbing Pansy's hand and dragging her towards the door. Grinning suggestively at Draco, she added, "After all, I 'ave a long list of tasks that I need Panzy to do."

...

When Pansy got back to her apartment that night, plans and schemes for her second rise to power filled her head. There were no magazines to seek advice from or boyfriends to drag along.

And really, she thought, isn't that the way it should have been all along?


End file.
